


Flowers, Fascinators and Fishnets

by Daisy_May



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crack, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 17:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16707091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_May/pseuds/Daisy_May
Summary: This is what happened after a throwaway comment in my 2018 Rough Trade fic: Entangled ParticlesEnjoy!(And we're very sorry)





	Flowers, Fascinators and Fishnets

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in conjunction with Ed Ronhia but AO3 won't let me add her as co author

  
The triumphant first notes of the Prince of Denmark's March by Jeremiah Clarke burst through the quiet chatter in the church and, as one, the congregation turned to catch a first glimpse of the bride. Instead, however, the Flower Girl suddenly appeared, as though pushed by someone unseen in the church porch. After a narrow-eyed glare at whoever had done the pushing, the Flower Girl turned the glare onto the members of the congregation, made up of family and friends, mostly from the SGC, here to see their Commanding Officer Jack O'Neill wed his billionaire industrialist, Patrick Sheppard.

  
At a sharp whisper from the porch - the actual words were inaudible - the Flower Girl raised a single finger, cased in a pale pink glove, to the speaker. One or two of the congregation muttered at such recalcitrant behaviour and General Jack O'Neill, standing at the front of the church, raised his eyes heavenward. He'd been against having a Flower Girl, particularly _this_ Flower Girl, but had been overruled by the other groom and, having learned to pick his battles, had retired from the lists and allowed his about-to-be-husband to have his own way.

  
Eyes still narrowed in a laser-like glare and bottom lip pushed out to its fullest extent, the Flower Girl began to stomp down the aisle lobbing rose petals at anyone who might have even a hint of a smile on their face. No one before had ever heard feet shod in pretty pink silken ballet slippers, their long pink ribbons crisscrossing and finishing in a beautifully tied bow, make such a loud thud each time the foot they covered landed on the wooden floor of the church, and several people winced at the sound, heard clearly over the soaring notes of the organ.

  
Someone had decided that, fascinators being particularly en vogue, the Flower Girl should sport one instead of the usual Alice band of fresh flowers, but while the pink flowered and pearl encrusted net confection was pretty, it did nothing for the black spiky-haired Flower Girl, particularly as the fascinator appeared to be slipping and by the time the Flower Girl was only halfway down the aisle was almost covering one eye making the lobbing of petals even more haphazard. The petal lobbing came to an abrupt end and Flower Girl began to swing the long-handled basket around one hand, centrifugal force now being the only thing keeping the remaining petals in the basket and more than one person wondered how high the basket would fly once released. Occupied with the spinning basket the Flower Girl failed to notice one of the pretty pink ribbon shoulder ties - the only thing holding up the pink lacy dress - had begun to unravel and now seemed to be in danger of coming entirely undone, possibly also due to the weight of the three lines of medals pinned to it. The attention of the congregation, however, suddenly shifted to the back of the church where the Maid of Honour - personally selected by General Jack O'Neill - had begun the long walk to the altar at the front of the church.

  
Unfortunately, some of the petals lobbed by the Flower Girl had actually landed where they ought to have landed, strewn to create a carpet of petals for the Second Groom - Patrick - to walk upon, but the Maid of Honour, extra senses inhibited for once, managed to land his stiletto heel directly upon one and, with a wheeling of arms and a loud yell, went arse over tit onto said arse and, pink fascinator over both eyes, cursed loud and long, much to the consternation of some in the congregation. The Flower Girl gave a loud donkey bray laugh at the sight and forgot to keep hold of the spinning petal basket which suddenly flew high into the air towards the vaulted ceiling, trailing petals as it glided almost in slow motion, and towards the President of the United States who, despite being uninvited and unwanted, by _anyone_ , had decided to grace the nuptials with his presence. Seven Secret Service agents, complete with dark suits, sunglasses and earwigs, dived in front of POTUS to protect him while the eighth, an agent with one or two brain cells, instead dived at the President himself and safely tackled him out of the way of the dangerous basket, still trailing pink rose petals, which threatened the very life of the Leader of the Free World.

  
Unfortunately, the Secret Service agent also managed to push POTUS into the chest of a well-endowed lady wearing a low cut blouse and all attention switched from the Flower Girl and Maid of Honour who were now slapping each other and hair pulling, to POTUS with his head between the breasts of a stranger, hands gripping her nipples to steady himself. The church was lit by the flash of dozens of iPhones as everyone tried to take a photograph of an orange-faced man grasping, indeed kneading and possibly licking, the breasts of a lady even as she belted him furiously with a large handbag in the hope of being able to prove, once and for all, that it wasn't just pussy he liked to grab. One or two other women, obviously acting in defence of one of their own, joined in the beratement, indeed Captain Laura Cadman was distinctly heard to yell 'Geronimo' as she vaulted over three rows of pews to whip off a heeled shoe and begin to beat the grasping man on his rather large arse. She quickly stopped when it became clear he was enjoying it and instead went straight for his balls thus ensuring his acceptance into the soprano section of the White House Choir.

  
The SS Agents finally managed to rescue POTUS although one or two were seen to add a kick or two of their own, and peace reigned once again in the small church. The organist, who had given up playing to watch the fight from his balcony seat, gave a deep sigh and returned to his keyboard and Clarke's Voluntary, although anyone listening carefully would hear the theme to Blackadder woven into the piece, probably a good choice given the occasion.

  
Walter had managed to get to his feet and he kicked off his remaining stiletto and gave Jack a grade A Paddington stare which promised all kinds of hurt in the Major General's future, and he stomped to the front to join the Flower Girl who, having now lost his basket and bitch-fight with Walter alike, was busy flirting with the female members of the SGC and showing them his black fishnet stockings through which his hairy legs could be seen. After barely a minute of this, a third person stomped down the aisle waving his hands around and berating him for his Kirk-like tendencies at this, his own father's wedding. Flower Girl Sheppard sank back into his chair and pouted while Dr MR McKay, PhD, PhD, PhD, PhD, lectured him, then, having clearly had enough grabbed the good doctor and bent him over backwards to kiss him quiet. A cheer went up from the female members of the congregation, led by Captain Cadman, and hurriedly scribbled cards all bearing the number 10 were held up around the church.

  
By this time, Jack was holding his head in his hands while Colonel Carter, his best man, stroked his shoulder and tried to keep him from crying although whether from excess humour or shame was unknown as yet. The organist had segued into the Dam Busters March and the vicar was seen through the open door of the vestry taking a long swig of the communion wine.

  
General George Hammond stood slowly, put his hands on his hips and frowned at the congregation until the room fell silent and everyone shuffled uncomfortably in their seats.

  
'Thank you,' he said and turned to the back of the church where loud whispers could still be heard from the porch. 'Patrick Sheppard!' Hammond bellowed. 'Get your ass out here, now!'

  
There was a little more hurried whispering and Patrick appeared as suddenly as John had, clearly pushed by someone.

  
'I'm waiting,' Hammond said with narrowed eyes, his foot now tapping.

  
Patrick gulped and jogged to the front of the church followed closely by his eldest son, David, his best man. George Hammond, displaying a temper few had even realised he had, followed them, pausing only to cuff the Flower Girl around his ear and pat the Maid of Honour on his shoulder.

  
'Right. Let's get this done,' George told the grooms and pointed to the space in front of him.

  
Jack and Patrick exchanged terrified looks and double-timed to where Hammond was pointing.

 

'If Captains can marry people, so can I,' George announced. 'Any objections?'

  
No one in the church dared to object and many, many heads were seen frantically shaking.

  
'Right. Let's get this done. Jack, do you?'

  
'Huh?

  
'It's not difficult, O'Neill! _Do_ you?'

  
'Yes?'

  
'Patrick, do you?'

  
'Err. Yes?'

  
'Good. You're married. Now swap rings and kiss each other.'

  
There was a round of applause from the audience and the two grooms turned to their respective best men and held their hands out for the rings. Colonel Carter, her face one huge scowl and tears in her eyes refused at first to hand Jack's ring over until George threatened her with exile to Area 51 and Kavanagh's Lab upon which she threw the ring at Jack and stomped out to join the vicar and his wine in the vestry.  
David simply reached into his pocket and held out the shiny platinum ring prompting the Flower Girl and his 'friend' to blow loud raspberries, while shouts of 'ass kisser' and 'suck-up' came from the vicinity of Captain Cadman.

  
Flower Girl Sheppard stretched languidly, scratched his balls and opened his eyes slowly, half expecting the fascinator to still be slipping over his face, but there was nothing there and he wasn't in church. He sat up and looked around at his bedroom on Atlantis and heard the sound of gentle waves lapping against the pier just below his window.

  
It had all been a dream.


End file.
